Among the Rogues
by youmakemykokorogodokidoki
Summary: After being kidnapped by pirates on their way to the New World, Ivan Braginski and Arthur Kirkland meet the infamous pirate, Capitaine François Bonnefoy. He seems arrogant and uncaring on the outside, but they soon discover that François is much more than they realise.
1. Chapter 1 - The Hostages

Arthur wasn't exactly used to being out at sea, especially on a boat as small as this one and filled with this many people. It didn't help that almost everyone here was an immigrant, so he couldn't understand what anyone was talking about. He only understood one person, and that was the tall Russian one who scarcely came out onto the deck. But, the one thing Arthur could actually stand about being on this boat was how quiet it was. That thought was immediately followed by the sound of gunfire.

* * *

A tall Frenchman, by the name of François, strode down the deck of his ship. It was large, clearly a pirate ship, with a mast that reached the clouds and flags with vibrant colours. He held his cutlass by his scabbard, as if preparing to ready it. A cravat was tucked neatly under the collar of his tailcoat, giving him a more posh look than most pirates. He looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with his First Mate, Antonio. Antonio was Spanish, but he spoke French well enough for François to have meaningful conversations with him.

"Antonio?"

"_Ouais_?"

"_Commencer à tirer, s'il vous plait_."

* * *

Arthur remembered Ivan grabbing him and bringing him down to the bilge, and that was all. He was still awake, of course, but he didn't dare open his eyes. All he knew was that he was huddled in Ivan's arms like a coward.

The pirates had come earlier, wreaking havoc, and from what he could tell, he and Ivan were the only ones left.

As soon as the footsteps on deck stopped, and Arthur thought that maybe the pirates had left, the door swung open, and a bullet very nearly grazed his arm. A pirate- François, to be exact,- stood in the doorway, a pistol with smoke billowing out of the barrel in his hand. François looked downwards. Arthur looked like how a cat would if you dunked it in cold water.

Arthur was still in Ivan's arms as the Russian stood up to face the Frenchman. There was a moment of silence, before François drew his gun, aimed it at Ivan, and fired. Arthur's breath caught in his throat when Ivan dropped him, the Russian's arms suddenly becoming limp. Arthur had no voice to say anything. He simply stood there as François brought the butt of his gun on him.

* * *

Arthur didn't know it, but it had been three hours since François had showed himself. He only woke up when he heard the voices of people. He tried to move, but found that he was strapped against something. His hands were bound as well. He opened his eyes, but was greeted with only darkness. At first, he wondered if the pirate had stabbed his eyes, but he quickly realized that it was just a blindfold. It was just then that he noticed that something warm was pressed against his back.

"...Comrade? Is that you?"

Ivan's familiar, accented voice comforted Arthur a bit. At least he knew that Ivan was there.

"Yeah," came Arthur's hushed reply.

"Are you hurt, comrade?"

"No. I probably have quite a bump on my head, but nothing hurts."

"That's good. I can't tell, but... I think they patched me up. Do you believe we should try to escape?"

Arthur scoffed rather loudly.

"Of course not. We're blindfolded, we don't know where we are, and-"

Arthur got caught off as a voice barked an order in french. Arthur had never heard him speak before, but he was certain that this voice belonged to François. His blindfold was ripped off, along with Ivan's, and once Arthur's eyes adjusted to the sun, he had to remind himself not to stare at the French Captain.

François was fair skinned, and he wore a dark red tailcoat, along with tight, navy blue pants. His hair drawn back in a knot at the back of his head, and even though it was wind blown, it still looked perfect.

Arthur's eyes trailed down to François' belt, where he held his weapons. There was his scabbard with the cutlass inside, a holster with the pistol in which he shot Ivan, and a dagger.

**_He shot Ivan, you idiot. Stop fawning over him_**, Arthur thought angrily.

Arthur spoke the only French he knew;

"_Je te deteste_."

François chuckled softly.

"_Mon cher_, you try to hard to upset me."

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and you will refer to me as such."

"I don't believe that you are in the position to be ordering me around, _mon cher_."

François bared his teeth in a cocky grin, then quickly turned to Antonio, giving out another French command. Antonio nodded, and grabbed Arthur's arm. Two people took Ivan; one, a muscled man with slicked back blond hair, the other a tall blond with glasses and a deadpan expression. Ivan struggled, of course, but the two men overpowered him easily. Soon, both the Russian and English men were taken down into the Captain's cabin.

* * *

Translations:

_Ouais_? - Yeah?

_Commencer à tirer, s'il vous plait_. - Start shooting/firing, please.

_Je te deteste_. - I hate you.

_Mon cher_ \- My love/darling


	2. Chapter 2 - Choices

Antonio gave a bittersweet smile as he kicked Arthur down, then rested his boot on the others back. Arthur was skinny, and though he ate well, it was clear that he was quite a runt. Ivan, on the other hand, was not restrained that easily. Both men which had restrained and overpowered him earlier were clearly struggling to rega, and after a moment Ivan was able to push them off of him. He rose to his feet, and turned to throw Antonio off of Arthur, before a harsh BANG sounded. François had entered the room at last. He held a gun, and smoke emitted from the barrel. In the confusion, the two blonds were able to get up and restrain Ivan yet again. Antonio looked at François with a somewhat pleading expression, but the Frenchman shook his head.

"Bonjour, captives." François commanded attention. With his striking azure eyes narrowed, and composure stern and professional, François looked rather intimidating. He nodded his head, prompting Antonio to slowly take his boot off of Arthur's back, and allowing the other to, gradually, get up from the ground. Ivan looked at his shoes, refusing to look at the french captain, while Arthur glared at François with inevitable contempt. The captain grinned softly at this, then took a daring step forward. But, instead of going towards Arthur, he went towards the Russian. The captain put his hand under Ivan's chin, then flicked his wrist up, forcing the man to look at him. Ivan scrunched his eyes closed; they were already full of tears from the memory of getting shot getting brought back to him. François grinned slightly in satisfaction, then took another step forward, pinning Ivan to the wall. His head nearly inches away from the other mans face, François whispered one thing.

"Try to protect him again and you'll live to regret it."

The captain pulled away, gave Ivan a kiss on the cheek, and walked to Antonio. There was muffled french whispering, a few exclamations, and, finally, Antonio nodded with a smile.

Francis returned it. He had sat down at his desk, while Antonio stepped forward and smiled happily, bringing a feeling of optimism to the room. Arthur tried to take a step back, but was stopped by one of the blonds holding Ivan. The man gave a tiny shake of his head, but his grip on Arthur's shoulder... Reassured him, in a way. Arthur's stance relaxed some.

"Do not be afraid, please. Capitaine François has ordered you both to work on this crew. You'll be like family, and none of us will hurt you. You dine with us, you sleep with us, you fight with us, you die with us." Antonio offered a grin.

"If you don't accept the offer, you have the option of either killing yourself with a knife, or allowing one of us to shoot you. It will be quick, don't worry."

Arthur looked to Ivan, then at Antonio, and, finally, at François.

"How many rounds have you got on you?"


	3. Chapter 3 - Let Me Die

François' heart skipped a beat, but his expression did not betray any emotions. He instead managed a bit of a smirk, then took a step forward and put his knuckles under Arthur's chin.

"You want to die, cher? That's not very attractive."

Arthur pulled his head back, then, without a second thought, spit on François' face in contempt. The pirate grimaced, wiped the spit off with a glove, then shoved Arthur back into the wall roughly.

"Kill me now," Arthur said. His voice was quiet, yet powerful.

"I don't want to be here another minute on this damn ship, kill me now!"

"Arthur," Ivan started, his eyes wide with worry. François turned his head to the Russian, then gazed at the two restraining him. He grinned at them, making them let go of Ivan. He immediately rushed to Arthur's side, grabbed his shoulders, and made the Englishman look him in the eyes.

"Please, please, Arthur, comrade, you are not thinking straight. We can stay here, we can stay, you don't have to be dying, come on..."

His voice was soft and reassuring, but his eyes were pleading.

"Ivan, I don't... I'll say goodbye before he does it- I'm saying goodbye, Ivan."

Ivan had started sobbing right then.

"I don't want you to! You can be safe here, why do you want to?! Why?"

Arthur sighed softly, then looked over at François.

"I'm ready," he said, looking at the french captain with a resigned expression.

Suddenly, François started laughing.

"I'm not going to kill you right now! Ten minutes alone, first. That's all I ask; then you die."


	4. Chapter 4 - Hear No Evil

Arthur didn't remember anything. A moment ago he was being led into François quarters, now he found himself nestled against François' chest in the captains bed, with a bloody bandage over his ear. Or, what was left of his ear, anyway. He had quickly put his hand over the bandage, only to discover that his ear was gone, completely. Like someone had taken a butchers knife and whacked it off.

He bolted up from the bed, then, hurriedly, began to pull the bandage off, eyes watering heavily.

"No, no, no, please, no," he muttered to himself, feeling at the bloody stump where his ear used to be. He found that he could hear from it, but just barely. He felt his heart racing, a cold sweat breaking out on his back, before he felt a sturdy hand on his shoulder.

"I thought you'd never wake up, cher," François practically purred in his good ear. The Frenchman rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, smirking just a bit.

"It was amazing, cher. You were begging for more. Don't try to walk."

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to relax his breathing. He wasn't going to admit to François that he was frightened. He kept his hand over his ear, looking down.

"What did you do? I asked you to kill me, I-"

"You begged me not to. You were rambling on and on, about that Ivan, about how you needed to see your brother before you died... Boring stuff, really."

Arthur's breath hitched at the mention of his brother, and he covered his mouth with a hand so that he wouldn't start sobbing.

"So I didn't kill you, but you grabbed the gun... And voilà. Shot your ear clean off. You would have bled out, if Antonio got there late. You should thank him. Honestly, you're mad when you're drunk."

François chuckled softly as Arthur lurched forward.

"You got me drunk?!"

"You begged for a drink before you died, so I brought you some wine. You practically inhaled it, cher."

Arthur sat on the bed quietly as everything François said sunk in. François got out of bed, went to the door, turned to look at Arthur, and winked.

"Antonio will be coming to check on you soon. I recommend you put the bandage back on; he's a devil when he's angry."


	5. Chapter 5 - Meetings

"Arthur? Are you in here?"

Antonio knocked on the door to François' room a few times, then hesitantly pushed it open. Arthur sat on the bed, his expression blank.

"François wanted me to check on you. Are you alright?"

Antonio sat next to Arthur on the bed, his strong arm around the others shoulder in comfort.

"If you feel well enough to go to the kitchen, Ludwig has some tea ready for you. I'm almost certain he's baked you some pastries, as well. Ivan is in my quarters; the man's a wreck. He thinks you're dead, so you should probably go check on him as well."

Arthur looked at Antonio apprehensively, trying to decide if he were joking or not. Though, after a few seconds, Arthur decided that Antonio was serious; he could leave.

* * *

The Englishman left François' quarters, immediately crossing the hallway to Antonio's. He opened the door slowly, looking at Ivan. He was awake, sitting on the bed; he was pale as a sheet, gripping the neck of a vodka bottle with knuckles so white that Arthur was amazed that it didn't shatter. Eventually, Ivan looked up, and met eyes with Arthur. The Russian's violet eyes flew open as he stood, the vodka bottle still in a death-grip. Slowly, Ivan edged forwards, holding a hand out to touch Arthur's shoulder, as if he didn't believe that he was there.

"I," he began, "I heard a gunshot."

"Yeah, well," Arthur shrugged with a tiny smile, pushing the bandage away from his wound.

"I didn't get off easy."

Ivan's sweet eyes widened in shock as he stumbled forward, tracing a finger around the wound delicately.

"That looks... Very bad. Did François do that?"

"...Technically. He gave me wine."

"And you drank it? Not very smart."

"You're telling that to who, rummy?"

Ivan looked troubled for a moment, then gazed down at his feet. "Arthur, do you think we will be rescued?"

The Englishman looked taken aback for a moment, then, slowly, shook his head.

"They killed everyone else on that ship. Anyone that finds out about it will assume we're dead, too."

Ivan sighed softly.

"Was afraid you would say that. I hope I get a nice memorial."

Arthur bit his lip, seeing how depressed Ivan looked.

"Um, well, chin up, buddy. At least we have each other?"

Arthur pursed his lips when he heard Ivan let out a snort of laughter, blushing in embarrassment.

"Y-You know what I meant!"

Ivan chuckled, then closed the space between the both of them, putting a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Well," Ivan began, smiling warmly, "I'm glad we have each other."

Arthur's eyes widened and he straightened up.

"A-Ah! I'm glad too! I mean- to have your company, I'm glad for that."

He covered his mouth and blushed darker, earning another chuckle from Ivan. Averting his eyes, Arthur tried to change the subject.

"Erm... Antonio told me to go to the kitchen for tea. Would you like to come with me?"

Ivan laughed, then said, pointing to Arthur's ear, "I'm afraid if I don't you'll shoot the other one off."

* * *

François stood in his cabin across from Antonio, looking worried.

"Did he look okay? He didn't get shock, did he?"

"You're worrying yourself too much about it, hermano. He was fine; I sent him to get tea from Ludwig. That'll help the shock, but I'm sure it's not permanent. Cheer up."

François bit the thumb of his glove nervously.

"I can't. He- he was so upset. I shouldn't have given him wine..."

"You didn't know, François. Anyway, he's fine now. He's probably with Ivan."

Antonio saw François' jaw clench, and smothered his snort of amusement with a cough.

'Ivan,' François thought with a scowl.

"I should have killed him. I only wanted Arthur."

"Well," Antonio reasoned, "if you kill Ivan, Arthur won't trust you. He'd hate you."

"Casse-toi! He already hates me. Mon dieu... What do I do, Antonio..?"

* * *

"Is the tea good?"

Ivan smiled, giving Arthur a thumbs up as he drank the tea.

"It's sweet. I like it."

It turned out Ludwig was one of the blonds that had restrained Ivan. He'd apologized to the Russian, then offered them both tea and pastries. They passed up on eating, both because of being scared of becoming seasick, and having lost their appetites from the ear incident. Arthur took another sip of his tea.

"Reminds me of home."

He looked skywards, smiling. "It'd be about tea time by now."

Ivan looked to him, then said softly, "do you miss home?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"...Not really. I didn't-... Well, you're my first friend."

Arthur remained quiet after that. They sat, drinking tea, for a while, before they were interrupted by someone coming out of the kitchen. It was a man, in maybe his early twenties, with white hair, incredibly pale skin and red eyes. He pursed his lips as he looked at the two men, then began to speak in extremely broken French. Arthur shook his head, quickly saying, "no, no, we both can speak English."

The man's eyes lit up, and he sighed in relief.

"Thank Gott. You don't know what it's like being surrounded by these frenchies all the time, man! So let me get right down to business; Franny wants you both off your asses and down to work. He doesn't want idle hands, verstehst du?"

There was no response, other than Arthur whispering "Franny?" to himself under his breath.

"So get to it!" The man yelled, clapping his hands together loudly.


End file.
